


Part of Our Routine

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, soft BediKay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24104839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: “Let me guess, I should have seen the other guy,” Bedivere sighed, “Come, sit, I'll get some more light so I can clean you up proper.”Kay gave a reluctant sigh but did as he was told. It was, after all, a part of their unspoken agreement: Kay gets into horrible fights for the right reasons and Bedivere cleans him up.
Relationships: Bedivere/Kay (Arthurian)
Kudos: 7





	Part of Our Routine

Kay came home late, blood running down his temple, left leg dragging with each painfully slow step, left shoulder hanging lower than it should with a blood bloom staining his tunic. Bedivere was still up, pacing instead of reading. He always worried, but had long since learned that there was nothing of this world that could take Kay out of it.

“Oh Kay,” Bedivere's face fell, “what have you done?”

“I won,” Kay said through gritted teeth.

“Let me guess, I should have seen the other guy,” Bedivere sighed, “Come, sit, I'll get some more light so I can clean you up proper.”

Kay gave a reluctant sigh but did as he was told. It was, after all, a part of their unspoken agreement: Kay gets into horrible fights for the right reasons and Bedivere cleans him up.

He let out a hiss as he sat on their dining table, whole body screaming at him for the abuse he put himself through.

“Here,” Bedivere came back with a candelabra in one hand and a drawstring leather sack tucked under his arm, “Oh, it's worth than usual.”

“Guy brought a knife to a fist fight,” Kay told his partner. Bedivere sighed and put the candelabra next to Kay.

“Where'd he get you?” Bedivere asked as he put the sack down and began rummaging through it.

“Upper arm,” Kay said, “Head's from a board. No idea how my leg is.”

“I am going to go get some water and some whisky,” Bedivere told him, “I'm going to wash your wounds and then I am going to kill anything the water left on them. It'sd up to you how warm the water's going to be.”

“I know,” Kay huffed, “I know.”

“Good,” Bedivere looked him over once before heading out.

Kay took the time to remove his belt and shirts. It hurt, the movement and the fabric dragging over the wound making him almost wish he wore a thin layer of mail under his clothes. But, no, he believed a fight should be as fair as possible between him and whoever brought forth his ire.

“Tell me what tonight's poor sap did,” Bedivere told him as he sat the small bucket down on Kay's other side.

Kay spared a moment to warm the water, a burst of fire magic, before he began fulfilling the request. Bedivere made a pleased sound as he reached for the rag at the bottom of the bucket.

“Tried to steal another man's coin purse,” Kay said, “I called it out and he told me, and I quote, that I should mind my business.”

Bedivere almost laughed, the image of someone with another man's coin purse in his hand acting as if nothing was happening.

“Aye,” Kay managed a strained smile as the first rivulets of water began dripping down his arm, “So the guy tries to run, but other patrons stop him. I figure it was, indeed, not my business with five against one but then the guy pulls a knife.”

“And you can never resist challenging a blade,” Bedivere had to actively remind himself not to laugh.

“Seems not,” Kay managed something close to a chuckle.

“I'm glad the water's been warmed,” Bedivere admitted.

“If I can't do subtle magic I deserve whatever injuries I've gotten,” Kay said plainly.

“Don't speak like that,” Bedivere locked eyes with Kay as he dunked the cleaning rag back in the water, “Don't even joke, Kay.”

“I mean it,” Kay's voice was flat.

“Nothing's taking you from me,” Bedivere began cleaning the knife wound in earnest. Kay hissed through clenched teeth and clenched his fists to avoid flinching away.

“Sorry,” Kay said, so quiet Bedivere would have missed it if he did not know the man nearly as well as he knew himself.

“You're allowed to flinch,” Bedivere told him, “We're home, not on the field.”

Kay let out a disappointed sound and Bedivere knew it was some internal fight manifesting itself in the world they shared.

“Almost done here,” Bedivere told him, “Looks like it's no deeper than skin, and I'm not going to need to stitch it up but it will need to be bandaged once I get a look at the rest of you.”

Kay nodded and let himself close his eyes and lean forward a little.

“Good,” Bedivere murmured as he dunked the cloth again, “you're doing good.”

“I'm doing what I need to,” Kay told him.

“You're doing good,” Bedivere repeated, somehow softer this time.

Bedivere finished cleaning the blood from around the knife wound and made sure no more would take his place before he dunked the washcloth once more and began working on the gash on Kay's head. This wound was shallow, but had more blood to clean.

Kay did wince when the cloth touched him this time, a sad sort of whimper escaping.

“Shh,” Bedivere tried to assure him, “You're alright.”

“I know,” Kay grimaced.

Bedivere worked around the gash carefully, focused on cleaning the wound itself rather than removing the blood from Kay's face.

“This one will need stitches,” Bedivere informed him.

“Seriously?” Kay groaned, “The first one was done with a knife!”

Bedivere, rather than replay, sighed and dropped the rag back in the bucket. He pulled a needle and thread from the sack and began threading the needled using his teeth to guide the string. Once that was tied off, he uncorked the whisky and poured it over the wound.

Kay let out a scream at this, the sharp, inescapable burning too much for his decades of training to subvert into clenched fists and gritted teeth.

“I'm sorry,” Bedivere told him as he grabbed Kay's face and angled his chin downward, “I am so, so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Kay managed to say. 

Kay sat, tense, eyes closed and knuckles white as they gripped the edges of the table, trying not to move as Bedivere worked the needle in and out of his skin with his only hand, muttering apologies as he worked.

“It was worth it,” Kay said once he felt Bedivere tie off the thread and cut the excess.

“So the guy had the knife,” Bedivere said as he put the needle back in the bag and made a mental note to wash it later, “but who had the board?”

“His friend,” Kay opened one eye carefully, “figured if a knife didn't work, a spare piece of light lumber would.”

“Hmm,” Bedivere made a thoughtful sound and decided not to ask when a board became lumber and vice-versa, “Now, what happened to your leg?”

“Hip,” Kay corrected.

“Shame, then,” Bedivere said mildly as he poked the affected hip with the tips of his first two fingers. Kay let out a yelp followed by a string of curses, “Seems it's not in its socket.”

“I tripped,” Kay told him.

“If you were anyone else I'd ask you what really happened,” Bedivere raised an eyebrow, “but I know you.”

“Is it really a bar fight if I don't manage to do something that would get a normal man killed on the battlefield?” Kay asked.

“Good think you're far from a normal man,” Bedivere shook his head, “now come on, on the floor then on your side with this hip up so I can put it back.”

“Can't I do this part myself?” Kay whined.

“If you could do it yourself you would have done it already,” Bedivere took a step back to let Kay get to the floor. Kay did so, making pained noises as he did.

Once he was on the floor, Bedivere took the rag out of the bucket before kneeling down beside him.

“Bite down on this,” Bedivere shoved the rag in Kay's mouth, “so you don't bite your tongue.”

“Once!” Kay tried to say, though it was muffled almost completely.

“One time too many,” Bedivere informed him. Kay made a series of protest noises but did not remove the rag, even though it tasted like blood and soap.

Bedivere aligned his one shoulder with the front of Kay's hip and his forearm with the back.

“Alright, on three or something,” he told Kay, “One. Two,” and he snapped the hip back into place. Kay took a swing on instinct, but Bedivere was faster, rolling Kay onto his back then jumping back to land in a crouched position.

“That,” Kay managed to say as soon as he removed the rag, “is the only thing that doesn't get easier with time. Sorry.”

“All good,” Bedivere assured him as he rose to his feet. He extended his hand to Kay, who took it and used it to slowly, slowly raise himself to his feet.

“Tell my brother I will be spending the next few days dead to the world,” Kay requested.

“I will tell the King that his Sensechal requires a few days off his feet,” Bedivere rolled his eyes, “and will take both blame and responsibility in his recovery.”

Kay made a huffing sound that almost crossed into laughter's territory. He let Bedivere lead him back to their bed, using his partner to support some of his weight.

“You know, Kay,” Bedivere said as he eased Kay into a sitting position, “I'm thankful you're, well, you.”

“Difficult and prone to fights?” Kay asked as he tried to figure out how to lie down while bringing the least amount of new pain as possible.

“That, when push comes to shove, you care so deeply about what is right you will always, always be the one to act as the line between justice and the rest of the world,” Bedivere corrected.

“Sometimes I just need to hear it,” Kay admitted. 

Bedivere made a sound that may have been anything Kay needed to hear and gently kissed the side of Kay's temple that was free from stitches.

“Let me get the candles and the bucket and I will finish cleaning all the blood off,” Bedivere told him, “and then I will bandage your arm.”

“And then I can sleep?” Kay asked.

“If sleep finds you, yes,” Bedivere said knowingly.

Kay managed a small smile as he watched Bedivere disappear into the darkness of their home.


End file.
